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Franziska von Karma spent most of December far from home. Specifically, she was the lead prosecutor for what was at the time the highest profile case of her career: catching a serial killer who had haunted the area around Württemberg for the last decade, and one the evidence pointed towards working in a high position in government. The high-level secrecy of the operation meant leaving her personal phone at home, and only using special phones provided by Germany’s intelligence service, ones she could throw away at even the hint they’d been compromised.
It was hard work, but it was also quite satisfying. No one disobeyed her, and five days after Christmas she was finally able to come back home. The killer had been convicted, her perfect record was still intact. Little did Franziska know her good mood would be quite short-lived.
Before Franziska had even approached her cell phone, her attention was grabbed by the landline receiver near her home’s entrance. Judging by the flashing light and the number next to it, she had missed quite a few phone calls. Of course , she said to herself, I am making a name for myself. After this case, I am sure many want to hear of how I succeeded where so many others failed.
But when Franziska hit the button for the voicemails to begin playing, it soon became clear her case had nothing to do with them. “Franziska, it’s me,” came her mother’s soft voice, warm and full of love. “Are you not coming for Christmas? I know your career is important, but it would be nice to see you again...” The message ended there, and Franziska felt a brief pang of homesickness. She did miss her mother. Still, work came first, as Father had taught her. The next message was also from her mother, but this one was filled with fear so palpable it came across even in the low-quality recording. “It’s your Bruder , he’s been arrested! Your Father said he’ll be taking care of it, but I’m worried. Please call me as soon as you can.” There was a beep signifying the message had ended, and the next four messages were all from different journalists, all of them Americans, wanting to know what her thoughts were on the ‘Edgeworth murder case.’
If someone had been in the room with her, they would not have been able to see the stress Franziska was feeling, aside from some tension in her gloved hands. But inside, Franziska did not know what to make of this. Edgeworth’s win record struggles had been a not inconsiderable bump in Franziska’s self-worth, happy to finally have something over the genius of the family. But the defendant? In a murder case? For the first time in her life, Franziska hoped a defense attorney would win the day.
Things became more complicated with the next message. “Franziska, it’s me.” This came from Franziska’s elder sister, Gisela. She did not sound scared. She sounded angry. “Father is taking the case against Miles! He is prosecuting our brother! I thought there was no depth he would not sink to, but even this...” Of all of the von Karma siblings, Gisela had the roughest relationship with Father. Her decision to not enter law, her distaste for Father’s methods, and her choice in husband had all served to push the two away from each other. “He has to lose...” Franziska barely managed to make out her sister say that, her voice was so quiet as she said it. “If he does not, I will never forgive him.” Franziska wasn’t entirely sure she felt any differently.
From there, the next dozen messages were from a mix of family and journalists seeking to hear from her. They gave her hints as to what was going on. Apparently, Miles had taken Phoenix Wright, the man who had defeated him, as his lawyer. The idea made Franziska want to laugh, her nerves were beginning to fray. Did he really think just because that man could succeed against Miles, he could really stand against Father?
But it seemed he lasted a day. Then two. Somehow, this rookie attorney with three trials under his belt had reached the last round of trial...against Father. Franziska’s heart was beating so loudly, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to hear the next voicemail over it’s deafening roar. From that last day of trial, shortly after the verdict must have been reached, came a voicemail from her mother again. “F-Franziska...” It was clear that the woman was weeping. “Please, you must come home. Your Father...he...”
The rest of the message was rambling, almost incoherent, but the voicemails following it helped her understand what had devastated her mother so. Piecing together bits of info from Gisela, journalists, and even a call from Miles, helped Franziska see the impossible picture. Miles was saved. Father had lost. Father...had confessed. Confessed to planning the very murder he was prosecuting. Confessed to killing Miles’ own father fifteen years ago.
What happened after that was a blur. Without bothering to unpack her travel bags, Franziska soon found herself at an airport, booking the next flight for Los Angeles. She slept at the airport, then on the plane. A day later, she was in LA, a place he hadn’t visited in quite some time. It was where her parents lived, as did Miles, while Gisela and her little family were closer to Franziska’s home, back in Germany.
From LAX, Franziska took a cab to the Detention Center. By then, it was close to the end of visiting hours, but no such regulation could stop a von Karma.
That was how she ended up sitting in a guarded room, partitioned by a wall of glass. On one side, Franziska sat, fidgety and nervous. On the other, sat her Father. He was still wearing his usual professional attire, though by then a few days of time in jail had ruffled his clothes and his hair beyond what his limited means could cure. Nonetheless, he sat in the cheap chair with his back straight and his eyes sharp.
They sat in silence for nearly a minute, neither taking the opportunity to speak first. Finally, her Father cleared his throat and said, “I heard about the Württemberg case. It was satisfactory, if elongated.” From her Father, such words could be seen as high praise, even with the qualification.
But Franziska was not in any mood to hear him say that. “Tell me it’s not true.” The words came from Franziska’s voice shakily, like she’d had to drag them out kicking and screaming in protest. “Tell me the lawyer framed you. Wright must have tricked you, or blackmailed you.” It was a plea, one she knew deep inside would be wasted.
Without showing even an ounce of emotion on his face, her Father replied in a rumbling bass, “It is true. I did not confess due to any trickery. Wright did not frame me. I am Guilty.” Coming here, Franziska thought she’d been prepared to hear him say that, but the words hit her like a punch to the gut, and tears started to roll down her face. That, her Father frowned at. “I thought I taught you better control,” he chided. “You’re a von Karma. Do not disgrace yourself.”
“Disgrace myself!” Franziska cried, unable to hold back the anger in her tone. “Me?! Father, you have confessed to murder! Pre-meditated murder! You are a criminal! You are the worst sort of criminal! I cannot possibly tarnish the von Karma name more than you have!” Her Father endured this assault with a neutral expression, which only made her more angry. “Explain this! Tell me why this happened!”
Franziska von Karma had not spoken to her Father in such a way in many years. He was a man that demanded respect. But from that day forward, he commanded no such respect from his daughter. After taking a second to exhale, clearly annoyed with her behavior, her Father did as she asked. “It began fifteen years ago, as I’ve no doubt you’ve heard. Through no fault of my own, certain evidence in a case appeared to have been tampered with, and I received a...penalty.” That was enough to briefly stun Franziska. Her Father? Had received a penalty? “I found myself in a daze, but I was shaken out of it by an earthquake. The power went out, and in the dark I tried to find an exit. When the lights returned, I was in front of the elevator. The doors were open, and inside were two unconscious men, a boy, and a gun. One of the men was the defence attorney who was responsible for the penalty. I took the gun, and I killed him.”
Over the many years Miles and Franziska had lived as siblings, he had very rarely shared much about the incident in which his father had died, the event that had led to his adoption into their family. But even Franziska could see how badly it had hurt him, how deep his emotional scars went. To learn that her Father was the cause, and moreso the reasons why he did it, were a struggle to hear. “You killed Miles’ father. Over a penalty.” She would later learn he had simplified the story in his telling, leaving out the shot Miles had caused that had injured her Father first. But she was glad he had not told her then, and tried to use it as an excuse. “Why did you adopt Miles?” was the only thing she could think to ask next.
For just a moment, Franziska could have sworn she saw a smile on her Father’s face, and just the hint of it made the bottom fall out of her stomach. “The boy had promise. Potential. A keen interest in the law. He had no other close relatives, and I thought he would make a promising addition to our family.” The most selfish part of Franziska hated every word he said. Did he see no promise in her?! Was she so pathetic, even at that age, that he had felt the need to adopt a real heir?! “But there were other reasons. The boy’s memories could prove evidence enough to convict me, should he look too far into the case again. There was also...some pleasure to be taken, in turning my enemy’s son into my pupil.” Those words would haunt Franziska’s nightmares for years to come.
Running a gloved hand through her silver hair, Franziska tried to come to terms with what she was hearing. “Then why this scheme, Father? Why did you concoct some ridiculous murder plot, knowing it could trap you just as well as Miles?” But even as she asked the question, Franziska feared she knew the answer.
“Is it not obvious?” her Father asked, looking genuinely confused. “His perfect win record had been tarnished. His connection to our family had been helpful, but once he was sullied by that man, I had to find a way to sever our ties. I could not let his falling reputation tarnish my own.”
There it was. Franziska had thought her tears had dried up minutes ago, but fresh drop cascaded down her cheeks as she recoiled from what her Father had said. “That is why?!” she asked, horror in her voice. “Father, he was family! He is family! You would do that to him, all to save yourself?” For a moment, it looked like he was going to respond, but Franziska cut him off. “If I had lost!” That stopped him. “If I had lost, and my perfect win record had been broken, would you do the same to me?! Would you use any method you could to cut me out of your life? Are we all so disposable to you?!”
“No!” For the first time in the conversation, her Father raised his voice at her. Genuine anger and pain could be heard in that resounding syllable, which seemed to bounce around the small room in an echo. “That boy may have lived in my home, but he was not my family. You are, Franziska. I would never hurt you.” Regardless of anything else, Franziska believed he meant it.
What he had said was clearly meant to be reassuring, but had the opposite effect. “You already have, Father,” was all she could bring herself to say, at first. She turned away from him, finding she couldn’t bear to look at his face anymore. “No matter what you say, Miles Edgeworth is my brother, as much as Gisela is my sister. I do not think I can ever forgive you for what you’ve done to him.” She let the words sit before saying anything else. “You were my goal in life, Papa. Everything I dreamed of being. I have spent my entire life trying to please you. Now, I see you were never someone worth pleasing at all.” With that said, Franziska rose from her chair, and was ready to leave.
Before she could, her Father had one last thing to say. “Wait!” She paused, but did not look at him. “Your mother. Your sister. Your niece. I am entrusting their care with you, now.” Franziska von Karma deeply wished, as she heard it, that those words meant anything to her. She exited the room, and prepared herself for what came next.